


Instant Exposure

by kaizoku



Series: Summer Pornathon 2013 [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Brief reference to infidelity, Multi, Photography, Polyamory, Summer Pornathon 2013, Team Gluttony, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-07
Updated: 2014-09-07
Packaged: 2018-02-16 11:31:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2268120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaizoku/pseuds/kaizoku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He's gotten good at traveling light, at leaving things behind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Instant Exposure

**Author's Note:**

> Challenge 2 for Summer Pornathon 2013: [Multimedia](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/90175.html)
> 
> Inspired by [Image #5](http://i.imgur.com/c2KgTyr.jpg) (NSFW)

He visits Lancelot in Barcelona and they drive up the coast to Dalí's house, but what Gwaine will remember is his legs bracketing Lancelot's on the moped, and the tiny coastal village where they eat lunch under grey skies.

It rains on the way back and they detour to Lancelot's hometown and get pissed with his cousins. Gwaine wakes on a futon with Lancelot's beer breath on his cheek, his cock getting friendly with Gwaine's thigh. He wriggles against him. Lancelot knows what a slut he is. He's always had this urge to imprint himself on everyone he knows or takes a fancy to.

Lancelot hums into Gwaine's neck, his hips moving purposefully. Neither can be arsed to do it properly, but they push their trousers down enough to rut against each other. Lancelot surprises him by nudging his mouth open and kissing him passionately, sharing tongue and hot breath as they try not to groan too loudly and wake up the house.

Lancelot gives him a Polaroid camera at the airport. He's got puppy dog eyes and a near-constant boner and if Gwaine wasn't expected in Mexico, he'd stay. At the gate, he reaches for his ID and pulls out a Polaroid of Lancelot's dick, right in front of a flight attendant who laughs and winks at him.

*

Gwaine has a couple days in Acapulco, so he hits the beaches and bars. A woman buys him a drink, since he's the first Irishman she's seen in six months. He likes the way she orders Scotch, and her Louboutin stilettos look dangerous and sexy.

They fuck like animals back at her luxury apartment: Morgana on her hands and knees on the bed while he thrusts. In the shower he slides to his knees and sucks her clit until she screams, nails digging into his shoulders while she grinds against his face. She swears his beard feels amazing on her cunt but lets him shave in the mirrored bathroom. The maid'll clean it up, she says.

He takes pictures on the beach at sunset, both of them naked, laughing at his penis flopping in the waves, Morgana cupping her breasts with a saucy grin. He photographs her asleep too. She looks younger, the shadow of old pain gone, dark hair curling over her shoulder.

*

Cairo's a new city for him and he can't even enjoy it. Arthur's the most anal reporter Gwaine's ever worked with. Gwaine just wants to tell him shut up and let him _do his job_.

What's worse is Arthur has lived there a year and knows a lot. Gwaine finds himself picking up history books and reading government reports, just so he can keep up with Arthur's rapid-fire commentary. 

Then their story gets picked up by the AP. They're sleep-deprived and high from checking the constant stream of praise and criticism on Twitter. Arthur pushes him back and Gwaine's about to snark about his damn personal bubble, when he realizes Arthur's unbuckling his belt and his knees go weak. The floor is hard and cold and he leans back, mind blank as Arthur deepthroats him, his hands cupping Gwaine's balls and kneading into his crack.

He takes a lot of pictures with Arthur. Not his face, but his cock fucking Gwaine's hole, spreading his arsecheeks open to show how loose he is, legs in the air, on his back, on his front, at a club, the apartment, a party where they slip away to the host's bedroom.

Then the revolution's over, and Arthur goes home to his family.

*

He's half-listening to Elyan on the way to the apartment, his head out the window, sniffing the humid green air. It smells like home, but he's already missing the smoky, sandy Cairo air, the sound of men yelling, the call to prayer resounding between stone walls.

He pushes Elyan up against the door, rucks his shirt up and smoothes his palms over Elyan's sinewy body, finding familiar curves.

"Missed you," Elyan's breath whooshes out as Gwaine sinks down on his cock. He savors it, going slow and using his tongue on the head, swallowing everything. 

Gwaine's too wired for sleep. It's too quiet anyway. He spills out his pack on Elyan's pristine table. He's gotten good at traveling light, at leaving things behind. There's a couple envelopes jammed at the bottom, away from customs officials' greedy fingertips. He opens them and spreads out the Polaroids.

Elyan will get up soon. He'll come over and tut at the mess, eat the dates Gwaine brought, and peruse the photos.

"So," he'll ask, smiling, "Who's this?"


End file.
